A Single Night of May
by Nytd
Summary: What began a month before with a night of terror, leads to something neither of them would have guessed on the fateful night he stole her away from her ship. One notorious pirate. One lovely doctor. One night of passion. Companion story to Memories of May


**Spoiler warnings for _Memories of May_**

I recommend if you're currently following the story, that you read chapter 27 first so this makes more sense.

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**A/N:** I couldn't resist the chance to write a little more of Barbossa flirting with May and teasing her, even as she acquiesces to what he's been requesting for some time now. More detailed and descriptive than the same scene in _Memories,_ but nothing terribly explicit since it's told by May, and we all know she'd be too embarrassed to write anything truly smutty. Probably doesn't need to be rated M, but just to be safe I've re-rated it.

If ye be readin' this without havin' read _Memories of May - _all you really need to know is that Barbossa had previously kidnapped a female doctor named Madeline, who has earned the nickname 'May', and after she's spent a month in his company, they've fallen in love. If you have the time, venture over to the main story and check it out.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hector Barbossa, who has an accord with Disney, nor am I making any money from writing about him. If I were, I wouldn't actually tell you, and he and I would be sipping Dark and Stormy cocktails on a private beach in the Caribbean together.

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**A Single Night of May**

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_Let me fall_

_If I fall_

_There's no reason_

_To miss this one chance_

_This perfect moment_

_Just let me fall..._

_Let Me Fall (From Cirque De Soleil) _Josh Groban

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The decision to put down in writing the events that followed my rescue the night of the pirate bonfire has proved a bit awkward for me, as I am not typically one to speak of such matters, but my desire to preserve the memory of precisely what happened and not lose bits and pieces of it to time led me eventually to write everything down.

Although, for as much time as has passed between that night and my recording of this, I still recall the details vividly enough that I probably needn't really worry about ever forgetting anything about that night.

I have previously written many of the happenings from the rest of my time spent on board the pirate ship, the _Rogue Wave_, so the explanation of how I found myself to be completely alone in the company of Hector Barbossa that night is well documented elsewhere.

I believe also, from my previous writings, that the reader is well aware of my tendencies and habits, and would suspect that although I had, earlier in the voyage, spent a single evening in the embrace of another pirate, that it is not typically my nature to behave in a wanton manner.

Indeed, as young as I was during the time of my nautical adventure, prior to setting foot on the _Rogue Wave_, I had only ever been with one other man. While I realize that society expected from me that I not engage in any manner of carnal pleasure until I was bound in matrimony to a single man for the rest of my life, I will admit that I secretly found this expectation unrealistic.

The first had in fact, been the man I naively thought I might marry one day, but we drifted apart in our interests and in our hearts before that ever came to pass, and I soon realized he had designs on crushing my dreams of ever becoming a doctor, and desired to situate me firmly at home, bound only to hearth and family. More than that, you need not know about him.

My one night with Michael Bellamy occurred simply as a matter of desperate circumstances, which I will not make the effort to re-explain here, and although to this day I think of him very fondly, both he and I knew when it happened, that it would never happen again.

I came to find myself, then, the night I have mentioned, being led by the hand across the captain's cabin of the _Rogue Wave,_ by the pirate who had rescued me earlier from the clutches of another who had ambushed me in the woods, intent on defiling and destroying me.

The fact that I was grateful for my life and owed that debt to Barbossa was only part of the reason I was standing before him, next to his bed, dressed in nothing but his half-buttoned frockcoat. Most of the reason was that I had spent the previous month getting to know a great deal about him, and in the bargain had fallen in love.

There are few people I know that might comprehend the notion that I had fallen for Barbossa, and most of them are pirates. For anyone else, the fact that he was a pirate, and indeed, a ruthless, cunning Pirate Lord, would have been enough reason for them to think me quite out of my mind.

I would daresay that sentiment would be heartily seconded by any who actually had occasion to meet the man in person. Intimidating in appearance and manner, especially to those who knew him not, Barbossa, I must completely admit, was not what you might conventionally call a handsome man.

Hardened and weathered to a degree each by time and the elements, Barbossa was veteran seadog a decade my senior, with a crooked gait born of devastating injury, teeth stained from too much drink and long months of poor diet at sea, and numerous battle scars from both man and beast that he wore as badges of honor.

For my part, after nearly five weeks in his company, I no longer noticed the prominent scar that slashed down his cheek when I looked at him, and I knew him well enough to know that behind those intense blue eyes lay great intelligence and wit, and to know that behind that subtle roguish smile there lay an impish, if not occasionally wicked, sense of humor.

That intense blue gaze was watching me carefully at that moment, while the fingers of one leather- clad hand tangled themselves firmly in mine, and he reached his free hand up under my hair to pull me gently but firmly nearer.

Despite the fact that Barbossa had attempted to kiss me on several occasions, those encounters had been belayed by interruption, and it was at that moment that I found myself wondering again, what it was going to be like when he kissed me for the first time.

He tasted of the rum he'd been drinking when his lips first brushed mine; his kiss was gentle and asking at first, then insisting, and quickly demanding.

I thought my legs would betray me with as lightheaded and helpless as that kiss made me feel, and I was glad that he let go of my hand to slide his arm about me and pull me against him. I grasped the front of his shirt tightly to steady myself as I found the kiss a bit overwhelming.

I had been too preoccupied to notice how much I had tensed in response to him, and when he finally pulled away from the kiss, he left me breathless and clinging to him with my eyes closed. Gently, he let go with the hand at the back of my neck and caressed my cheek with his fingers, getting me to open my eyes and look up at where he had been watching my response to his kiss and his touch.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he realized by observation of me that I was apparently quite nervous. While his smile put me slightly more at ease, it was really his comments, meant to tease me, that lightened things for a moment.

Gently peeling my hands free of his clothes, he took to shrugging himself out of his waistcoat and tossing it on the floor as he spoke. "Ye seem a bit nervous, lass," he said softly, but I could hear the familiar subtleties in his tone that told me he was about to have a bit of fun at my expense. "'Tis not as if this be yer first time...nor even yer first with a _pirate_," he said slyly.

The spell of anxiety that had gripped me dissipated as I shot him a look and then tried not to laugh when I realized his comment was only in fun.

"You're not funny," I said, amused, but still feeling a trifle awkward about his reference to my dalliance with a member of his crew.

"No? Then why is it yer laughin'?" he inquired, as he sat down on the edge of his bed and pulled off his boots, tossing them aside with little regard for where they landed. I laughed again at his cavalier manner that was contrived to get me to do just that.

He pulled his shirt off over his head as he continued to tease. "By my figurin'," he said, "at the rate yer goin', ye'll have made it through me whole crew in jus' over a month."

My mouth dropped open of its own accord at the audacity of his comment, and he laughed at the look on my face before I finally began to smile again. A wicked gleam of mirth shone in his eyes.

"I suppose I should count meself lucky that I be near the top of yer list," he continued, laughing again when he saw that I was likewise amused and not taking any offense.

"You're lucky you're even _on_ my list," I replied with faux hauteur.

"Well, if that's how ye be, then I want me coat back," he said, nodding his head at where I was wearing nothing but the garment he was referring to.

While I knew it wasn't going to stay in my possession much longer, I wasn't quite ready to relinquish it yet. "No," I said, clutching it closed a little again where he'd undone the first few buttons.

Barbossa made a show of looking thoughtful for a moment. "I propose an accord," he said, doing his best not to smile. "You come sit here a bit..." he patted the edge of the bed next to him, "and I'll let ye keep me coat."

I eyed him with suspicion, and went and stood next to him, still holding the front of the coat closed with one hand and offering him my other to shake on the deal.

"Fer five minutes," he added suddenly, cheating on our bargain as he shook my hand. Before I could say anything else, he pulled me by the arm he had hold of, and I found myself abruptly on his lap, albeit not unwillingly. I laughed lightly for a moment, and then noticed that his manner had suddenly changed.

"What?" I asked softly, after seeing the way he was looking at me.

"Ye've heard me say so before, May," he said quietly, meeting my eyes, "and I'll say it again...yer a right fetchin' beauty, and especially when ye laugh." He ran his fingers gently through my hair once, and then drew me closer to kiss me again.

I wrapped my arms around his neck at that point, and several long, lingering kisses later, he was laying me gently back on the bed, and shifting his own position so that he lay on his side next to me.

He spoke in a half whisper again in the dim lighting. "There be somethin' I would tell ye," he said near my ear, pausing momentarily to nuzzle my neck again.

"What is it?" I asked, paying more attention to what he was doing than what he was saying.

"I thought it best to say that if ye were wearin' a dress at the moment," he said, raising his head to look at me, "this'd be the point that I'd be intendin' to part ye from it."

I was still smiling at his comment when he kissed me again, and I reached out to run my fingers lightly across his cheek when he stopped.

"'Tis a duelin' scar," he said, thinking me to be wondering about the reason for the pale line on his skin under my fingers.

"Oh," I replied softly. "I was just thinking how little I notice it anymore when I look at you."

I could tell even in the low lighting that my words had an effect on him, and he tightened his grasp on me. "What is it that ye be doin' here, lass," he mused, half to me and half to himself, "in the bed of a scurvy old seadog, like me?"

I couldn't resist the opportunity to tease him at that moment. "Well," I said, making as if to get up, "if you don't think I should be here..."

He pushed me firmly back down against the bed. "Whether ye should be, and whether you are, be two entirely different matters, M'lady." He kissed me a little roughly and then whispered in my ear as he reached for the next button on his coat. "It be too late to alter course, now."

He fastened his eyes firmly on mine as his fingers undid the last buttons, and even as his hand pulled aside the two halves of the coat, he met my gaze steadily. "Do ye trust me?" he asked very softly.

"Yes," I told him, looking at him in a way I am sure told him I truly did. It was only after I'd given my answer that he let his eyes wander over me, followed momentarily by weathered yet gentle hands.

It was only a few moments before he then managed to slide his coat down my shoulders, tracing my skin with his fingers as he removed it and then tossed it on the floor.

I confess that I have never had a man lavish his attention on me the way Barbossa did that night. For a long while the only sounds in the cabin were the occasional slow creak of the ship's timbers, and the frequent soft sighs and moans of pleasure that came from me as his experienced older hands roved over my skin.

He moved a bit lower from where he'd been mercilessly kissing my neck, following with his mouth where his strong, elegant fingers had been caressing and teasing, causing me to arch against him and cry out softly. I let him continue for a long while, lost in what he was doing, unconsciously tangling the fingers of one hand in his long hair as I continued to surrender to his ministrations.

I remember the feel of what must have been more scars on his back, when I dug my fingers into his flesh there, as he returned to kissing me fiercely, the same time his fingers of the hand he'd moved underneath me began pressing into and kneading the small of my back. I gasped again, finding the reaction it got from me greatly surprised me, although, it seemed, not him.

As he withdrew from kissing me and watched me knowingly, enjoying the soft sounds of pleasure that he was eliciting from me, I opened my eyes to look at him, and was a little unprepared for the darker look in his eyes that I found there. Evidently lust had joined his passion in fair measure, and despite the fact that I desperately wanted to be with him that night, I confess at that moment, the look he met me with unsettled me a little.

By the time his breeches joined the pile of clothes on the floor a moment later, my heart was racing, and as he shifted his weight over me further, I began trembling beneath him.

He kissed me once more and then spoke softly near my ear, his voice a husky whisper. "Are ye afraid of me?" He kissed me again, not letting me answer as he already knew my answer was yes.

"Are ye so afraid of fallin' fer a pirate, May?" he whispered, "even when that pirate has fallen fer a doctor?"

"Have you?" I asked, even as I let him gently nudge one knee aside.

"Aye, lass," he said softly, reaching out to caress my cheek tenderly. "Minha flor encantadora."

The sweet nothings that he continued to whisper in my ear in Portuguese came a little too easily to his lips for me to think that I was the first woman he'd used them on in order to gain an advantage in having his way with her, but nevertheless, I fell for their charm.

With gentle fingers on my face and sweet whispers at my ear, I finally yielded to him, giving over to pleasure and to what he clearly was requesting in such a tender way.

I was thankful that we were alone on the ship when I cried out sharply as his fingers tangled themselves suddenly in my hair and he was upon me, pinning me under him and taking me all at once. I cried out wordlessly again and clung to him desperately as he thrust against me roughly a few more times, overwhelmed by where he was quickly taking me.

He slowed for a moment, falling into a leisurely, unhurried rhythm, whispering in my ear as he did so. "Ye didn't truly think I'd play nice _all_ evenin' did ye?" he asked, teasing me with his words and his movements.

"No," I breathed, completely at his mercy then, and quite willing to remain so, "but did you truly think I wanted you to?"

"I'd hoped ye didn't," he replied, gasping faintly when I matched my own movement to his.

"I had hoped you wouldn't," I said near his ear in the sultriest whisper I could manage.

"Ah, so it be a pirate ye want after all," he replied, biting my neck playfully.

"Aye," I whispered back, pressing myself against him harder, "but only this pirate." I lost myself in what we were sharing for a few minutes, matching his subtle escalation of tempo. "What is it that _you_ want?" I asked, running my nails lightly across his back and eliciting a shudder of pleasure from him.

"You. I've wanted this since first layin' eyes on you," he whispered in my ear, holding me close and driving us inexorably further along in our passion, "and I'll take ye the way I see fit now that yer mine."

Perhaps his words should have caused me greater alarm, but as helpless and heated as he'd already made me, they only served to throw more fuel on the fire. I'm sure he knew they would, having had at least a decade more experience with bedding women, than I'd had with being bedded.

He drew back a little from where he'd been speaking near my ear and kissed me hungrily again, driving into me roughly again a few times to make his point.

At last he broke off the kiss, and with one arm wrapped tightly under me, and his free hand gently caressing my face, I could tell in the dim lighting that the way I was moaning and writhing against him pleased him. He stayed where he was, watching me even as I whimpered and gasped and tossed my head back, abandoning myself to the moment.

I think it was as obvious to him as it was to me when I reached the point of no return, probably by the way I dug my nails into his scarred but strong back, and he tightened his grip again, holding me and speaking softly.

"Aye, lass," he whispered with gentle urging as I clung to him desperately and my soft cries became more intense. "Yes, me beauty," he breathed, watching me intently as the wave of pleasure I'd been riding crested.

I knew nothing but the feel of him against me and within me as I cried out softly, calling his name as that same wave of pleasure crashed over me. "Hector!" I gasped, pulling him down to me and burying my face in his long hair at his neck.

He held me tenderly for a few moments, as if I were something fragile, - his movements all but ceased to give me a moment to linger in ecstasy and to recover my senses to some small degree.

At last, when I'd caught my breath a tiny bit, he spoke as he looked at me and caressed my cheek again. "Now, that be a fine thing indeed, to hear me name from yer lips fer the first time in that manner," he whispered, apparently in all seriousness even though a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

I smiled back at him, realizing that it was in fact, the first time I'd addressed him as _Hector_ and not as _Captain_. "I hadn't realized until now," I replied, still somewhat breathless and weak, "that was the only time I've ever called you by name."

There was a trace of mischief in his voice when he spoke again. "Aye, but 'twould be a shame if that be the only time. Mayhap I should see to it that there be another..."

He kissed me once tenderly, and then again deeply, and apparently deciding that he'd given me enough time to recover, chose then to slake his own lust that he'd been holding in check in order to see to it that he'd pleasured me first.

Although he didn't hurt me intentionally, I found myself crying out again repeatedly in a mixture of pain and pleasure when he unleashed his passion, and unapologetically sought his own release with powerful strokes that surprisingly swept me up in another swell of desire.

By the time I had my fingers woven tightly though his hair, and had breathlessly called his name in the same manner again, his breathing had become fast and ragged, and I found the sound of him calling my own name aloud rather intoxicating.

"Madeline," he gasped breathlessly, followed by a half-moan, half-growl of intense pleasure as his passion ran its course to its own conclusion. He shuddered and fell against me, panting and momentarily weak as a result of his efforts and his own climax.

We stayed that way for a few long moments, and I gently stroked his hair and ran the fingers of my other hand lightly over his scarred back as his breathing began to return to normal.

Finally, he gently disengaged himself and rolled onto his back next to me, dragging me with him gently to rest in his arms. I pressed against him, marveling at how much I wanted to be close to him, when not that many weeks before, I'd been scared to death of him.

I was lost in my thoughts, and had been absently running my fingers across his chest with a light lingering touch, and I ceased to do so after a few moments, thinking he'd fallen asleep.

His eyes remained closed, but he spoke softly. "Must ye stop?" he asked. Evidently he'd been enjoying what I'd been doing. "A long time it's been since a woman has touched me like that. 'Tis most intoxicatin' since ye truly seem to want to."

I propped myself up on my elbow to look at him, continuing my affections, and he opened his eyes. "Are ye well, M'lady?" he asked quietly, a bit sleepy after our lovemaking.

"Quite well," I replied softly, "Hector."

I could see that he smiled at the fact that I used his name without being amorously engaged with him, and after a moment he reached for me, drawing me down to him again, and I curled back up against him, amazed that I could feel so safe in the arms of a pirate.

If love had ever created a more unlikely pair than a pirate and a doctor, I certainly hadn't heard of one, but that did nothing to change the fact that it had bonded the two of us. Apparently the man next to me had been contemplating the same thing, and he sighed contentedly, even as he planted a single tender kiss on my forehead and tightened his embrace a little, and I drifted off to sleep with him, listening to the slow, intermittent creaking of the _Rogue Wave._

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**A/N:** Many thanks to FreedomOftheSeas for beta-reading and scrutinizing this for me!

My goal here was to write a night of passion for the shipboard romance, and maintain May's more refined style of narrative at the same time. I wanted, without being too explicit, to convey the affection, attraction, passion, and longing that have been building between the two (for 27 chapters!), and still manage to keep them both in character. Hope you enjoyed the single night!


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